Wandering Damnation
"Aye... Tat' ship... Won't catch me eva' boardin' it... Alone... Wit' a crew... Fel! Won't even go on it wit' me' fleet! Tat' vessel... Ehh... Gets' me' blood icin' ova'... Hairs standin' on end. Aye'... Jest' creeps me out... Jest' a lil'." -Dreadmane Vi- Many years ago, the ship was like any other ship of human craft. The crew itself was a mix of races, commended with a strong captain. The first mate of the ship was a young elven woman who knew when to stop and when to hold the reins when something could go wrong, a tactician of naval skill. During one of the many campaigns across the seas, the first captain, Marcus Whitestar, began to grow... darker... The husband of the first mate Ano'rel Sunfrost-Whitestar called him to question, and with her time away from him became the darker days for the crew and ship. One fateful day, the first mate and wife of the captain died, and the very captain was falling into a darkness caused by the very grief of his lost one, and such grief sent him spiraling, fueling an insanity, Invoking old, ancient beings to aid him in saving his wife... All to inevitably damn his crew and ship in return. A sickness fell, his crew member began to die off from such a blight... All to be reborn once more. The cosmetics of the ship began to deteriorate, withering in crumbling, darkened decay. The very ship became cursed, all to the captain's folly and foolish actions. A brief and restless mutiny ensued shortwhile after their undying, cursed demise, and the captain was forcefully removed from the ship. The ship afterwards disappeared with very little trace, was never heard of. Until now. Ship's Appearance The hull of the ship looked as if it was warped, torn and infested with barnacles and festering corpses that seemed to have plugged up holes along the ship. Rails of warped wood and rusty metals held small pegs with that appeared to be discarded, left crawling with beetles and worms. The sails where weathered and torn, chains and rotting ropes hung from the masts. There was a possibility to notice that a few... Rotting or skeletal corpses were hung on nooses tied to the very mast and sails. It is uncertain whether they were decorative, or it was a punishment, but it added to the element of undying dread on board. When the weather was well, cobwebs adorn most nooks and crannies on and below the main deck, along with well placed and unmoving skeletal guardians, possibly former crew members of it's cursed past. When the weather was foul and rotten, storms battered the ship, waves causing the ship to creak and whine. Wind that rolled over the very vessel created moan and cries of what many would call from the dead that still roamed and haunted the ship itself. The poop and navigation deck held together with planks of worn, rotting wood that looked like it would fail under the weight of the heftiest of plated Taurens, creaking and cracking, housing the very steering device that... Had something growing upon it. Algae? Goo? Flesh even? Is that an eye? The pegs made of what appeared to be rotting teeth, the smell repulsive to those that had even the weakest of the sense. What was the source of the curse? Would it be that stupid to be out in the open? No one but the captain knows. Going once more under the deck, it seemed to only lead to stairs that were covered with webs and small items of no distinguishable value or feature. The small storage area next to the steps seemed rather well kept with barrels of gunpowder... But there was no sign of cannon balls anywhere... Walking further down, netted hammocks for those of the crew to lie and rest, yet not a scrap of food to be found. Odd? Not on this ship. The captain's quarters, none is allowed unless the captain invites you herself. Further below deck, inches of water rested stagnant. Groaning and growls of ghouls and geists groaned out while cannons rested upon a raised platform on both sides. With a couple more steps downward, rusty bars and more stagnant, salty ocean water pooled in what was the brig; Bones and rotting flesh littering the cells and water, making it a wonderful treat on the living... If they ever made it out alive, they would certainly fall gravely ill with something absolutely foul. The Curse The living do not last long on this ship. Within two days, the victim will grow ill and on the third day... They will cease to be one amongst the living. It would be up to the captain herself to be reborn as the damned... Or ammo for the ships cannons. The Induction to the Bell's Heel Corsairs In times long before the ships unfortunate cursing, Ano'rel and Dreadmane Vi ran into each other on many occasions. It is speculative that Dreadmane Vi is the father of Nor, Ano'rel's eldest daughter. Aside from personal leave of absence before Ano'rel married the captain, there were numerous times where the two teamed up for raiding and plundering upon settlements on shore leave. Months before the day Arthas caused the fall of Lordaeron, the ship went missing. Dreadmane Vi had not heard hide nor hair of the ship until after the Third War when one day, Dreadmane Vi began an attack on a mysterious, run down and forsaken ship. After what seemed like hours, the who old friends realized who they were attacking. After an interesting banter between the two and the disposal of fallen crewmates upon the Crimson Siren, along with Ano'rel's retrieving call of ghouls to her damned vessel, the two parted and sailed their separate ways. From that day forth, the forsaken ship's tales of the most foul of deeds and ill gotten gains spread notoriously in fearful whispers along ports and taverns for years to follow. Eventually, Dreadmane Vi finally started up the Bell's Heel Fleet once more, and he ran into the undying, cursed captain once again, requesting an allegiance under the same banner. Ano'rel agreed. Category:Items Category:Vehicles Category:Ships Category:Bell's Heel Corsairs Category:Pirate Ships